


I Guess This Is My Life Now

by phantomthief_fee



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Post Game AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: He just wanted to play a video game. Now he's got 4 rogue AI's roaming his apartment and a body that isn't his.
Comments: 48
Kudos: 245





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liliflower137](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliflower137/gifts).



All he’d wanted was to play a video game.

That was it.

All he’d wanted was to just unwind and play a VR port of Half Life.

Now his identity had been replaced by the video game character he’d been playing as, had lost an arm, and had four rogue AI’s roaming around his apartment.

He wasn’t Gordon Freeman. His first name was, in fact, Gordon, but his last name wasn’t Freeman. Probably. He didn’t actually remember what his last name was anymore because a lot of his memories had been replaced by the memories of the character Gordon Freeman, but he knew that that wasn’t who he was. He’d been someone else before he’d picked up that game.

And yet, here he was, staring at the face of Gordon Freeman in the mirror of his shitty little apartment. He raised his left hand to touch his face (his right hand was just fucking gone after all), his stomach sinking at the feeling of the hair under his fingers. He hadn’t had the courage to shave off the beard yet, especially since he kind of didn’t want to know what Gordon Freeman looked like cleanshaven.

This wasn’t right. He knew it wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to look like this. He knew that. But he couldn’t remember what he’d looked like before. There were pictures around the apartment of a man he supposed was probably him, but there was a disconnect between that man and who he was. 

The face of Gordon Freeman just felt…right. It felt like him. But it wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t feel so comfortable with this body that didn’t belong to him. This wasn’t who he was supposed to be. 

It wasn’t all bad, though. He did like the beard and the long hair. They both looked good (especially the long hair, which was glossy and wavy in a way that he didn’t think his normal hair had ever been), even if the fact that they didn’t really belong to him freaked him out more than a little. 

Still, he didn’t know how he was supposed to explain these radical changes to people who knew him. He did have friends and a family. They’d wonder about the long hair and the beard, not to mention the change in skin tone, and especially the fact that _**he didn’t have a right arm anymore**_. And that wasn’t even getting into the mental trauma he was sure he had.

There was no way for him to logically explain how much he’d changed in just a few days. He obviously couldn’t tell the truth. He’d get carted away to a mental hospital for sure.

“M-Mr. Freeman? Are-Are you alright?” Tommy’s voice startled him from his existential crisis. That was right. How could he have forgotten his **other** problem?

The four rogue AI’s who were now in his apartment.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine, Tommy,” Gordon called back.

“Are you-Are you sure?” Tommy asked. “You’ve been in there a lon-long time.”

“He’s probably jacking it.” Benrey’s slightly muffled voice chimed in.

Gordon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to count to ten in an attempt to calm himself. He had neighbors. He couldn’t just yell at Benrey whenever he wanted (even though he **really** wanted to).

“Don-Don’t say that!” Tommy chided. “What if he’s-he’s really not okay?”

“That’s a him problem,” Bubby said from somewhere in the living room. He was probably still on the couch with Coomer. Coomer had been…quiet since they’d all found themselves in the real world and Bubby had refused to leave his side.

Gordon rolled his eyes, turning and opening the door to the bathroom. Tommy visibly brightened when he saw Gordon’s face, which did bring the tired man some measure of comfort. 

“I’m okay, Tommy, really. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s-That’s easier said than do-done, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said with an apologetic smile. “You’re my-my friend.”

Gordon couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“You done jerking off?” Benrey’s head appeared from the kitchen. He was holding a lightbulb. 

“You better not be fucking eating lightbulbs again,” Gordon said, fighting the urge to yell. “I actually need those. You know, to light the apartment. The apartment you now live in.”

“They’re crunchy,” Benrey said, then took a bite out of said lightbulb.

Gordon closed his eyes and started counting again. 

“Benrey, you re-really shouldn’t be eating t-those!” Tommy said, snatching the broken lightbulb out of Benrey’s hand. “If w-we run out, we wo-won’t be able to see when it-it’s dark!”

“I can see in the dark,” Benrey replied, his expression bemused. 

“Can you, or are you just saying that to fuck with me?” Gordon asked. 

Benrey just grinned. There were little shards of glass and wire stuck between his teeth. Gordon went into his bedroom. He needed a nap.

He collapsed face-first onto his bed, sighing heavily and breathing in the comforting smell of his sheets. His blankets were still a little dirty because he hadn’t had a chance to wash them since the AI’s had tried to bury him the first time he’d fallen asleep, so he had to sleep without blankets for now. Which was fine because it was summer at the moment.

“Why is this my life?” He groaned to himself.

All he’d wanted was to play a video game. Now everything was weird and his identity had been essentially replaced and **he didn’t have a fucking right arm**! He was still mad about that. He’d have to get a prosthetic and then he’d have to learn how to write and do stuff with that prosthetic. His right hand was his dominant hand, after all. Or maybe he could learn to be left-handed. That would be pretty hard, though.

His gun arm was discarded in the corner, hidden under his dirty blanket and his own discarded dirty clothes. He’d managed to detach it shortly before passing out after first waking up in the real world again. He didn’t have much desire to put it on ever again. 

He spent a long time trying to sleep, listening to Tommy and Benrey’s voices outside his door. It mostly sounded like Tommy was trying to get Benrey not to eat various other things in the apartment that were not supposed to eaten. So, business as usual. He hated that that had become normal for him.

Eventually, Gordon got tired of trying to sleep, unable to get comfortable or turn off his mind. He sat up, picking up a photograph on his bedside table. He assumed it was a photo of himself with his family at a party or something. 

There was nothing particularly interesting or remarkable about the man in the photograph. He smiled blandly out at Gordon, flanked by other smiling people who looked like him. He recognized his family in some vague way. He knew who they were. But he didn’t recognize the man in the center. The man that was supposed to be him.

He could remember being that man. But it felt more like a dream than his actual life. Or a movie he’d watched. It didn’t feel like he was actually that person.

He sighed and put the picture back on the table, laying back down and trying once more to sleep. He was too tired for all of this.

.

Meanwhile, Tommy was indeed trying to keep Benrey from eating things he shouldn’t. Currently, Benrey was trying to eat a screwdriver. It was unclear where he’d gotten it or how he planned to eat it, but he was going to do it all the same. Not at the moment, though, because Gordon wasn’t there and it wouldn’t be funny if he wasn’t there.

“Do you-Do you think Mr. Freeman is al-alright?” Tommy asked, leaning against the counter. 

“I dunno.” Benrey shrugged. “Why?”

“He doesn’t-doesn’t seem alright,” Tommy said, glancing at the door to Gordon’s bedroom. 

“He’ll be fine,” Benrey said, playing with the screwdriver. It was a pretty nice screwdriver, he had to admit. It would be a shame to eat it. He’d just put it in his mouth, let Gordon freak out, and wrestle it from him. 

“But-But what if he is-isn’t?” Tommy insisted. “His whole-whole world’s basically ch-changed.”

Benrey stared at him, almost as if to ask why it was a big deal.

Tommy sighed again, starting to fidget with a stim toy that Gordon had gotten for him. He knew this was just how Benrey was, but he couldn’t help but be frustrated that Benrey wasn’t considering Gordon’s feelings.

“We’re lost without Gordon, you know.”

Both Benrey and Tommy looked abruptly up at the sound of Coomer’s voice. Coomer stood in the doorway to the kitchen, Bubby’s arm around him. He looked tired. More tired than any of them had ever seen him before. He had taken getting out the hardest, given that he’d been the most scripted. 

“He got thirsty,” Bubby announced. “So, we’re getting him a soda.” He went to the refrigerator, still holding Coomer’s hand, and began to rummage through it for the preferred beverage, muttering about Gordon’s preferences in food distastefully.

“W-What are you ta-talking about?” Tommy asked, even though he knew exactly what Coomer meant.

“If something happens to Gordon, we’re lost,” Coomer said. “This isn’t our world. We don’t know enough to survive here.” His voice was low and solemn. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m gonna be fine,” Benrey replied, picking up the lightbulb Tommy had confiscated and popping the rest of it into his mouth. The sound of crunching glass and groaning metal set everyone present on edge. 

“He’s right. He can’t die,” Bubby agreed, retrieving a root beer from the back of the fridge and handing it to Coomer. “He could probably live in a dumpster and eat garbage.”

“But th-the rest of us are-aren’t like that,” Tommy said. He turned to Benrey. “Doc-Doctor Coomer’s right, Benrey. We’ve never be-been outside the g-game before.”

“We don’t know how to be **people** ,” Coomer continued. 

Benrey rolled his eyes, continuing to chew on the remains of the lightbulb. “Dude, we’re **not** people.”

“We are-are now,” Tommy said.

“Eh, that’s debatable.” Bubby shrugged, grabbing a soda for himself. “We’re people- **shaped** at least.”

Coomer’s expression was blank again. He seemed to have shut down again, having exhausted his linguistic capabilities for the moment. Without another word, he turned and headed back to the living room with Bubby in tow.

“So, are we done now?” Benrey asked, looking at Tommy. “I wanna find other stuff to eat in front of Feetman.”

“I-I guess…” Tommy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Jus-Just, could you be a li-little nicer to Mr. Free-Freeman? He’s ha-having a hard time. I don-don’t want you to push him t-too far.”

Benrey stared at Tommy for a long time. When he was still, it was clear just how _wrong_ he looked. All of the AI’s fell slightly into the uncanny valley, Gordon included, but Benrey was the most noticeable. There was something _wrong_ about his appearance. Something unnatural. It didn’t help that Benrey had a habit of not blinking for long periods.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll give Feetman a break.”

Immediately, Tommy brightened. 

“Thank you so-so, much!” He exclaimed, giving Benrey a big hug. 

“Yeah yeah.” Benrey rolled his eyes again. “Don’t mention it.” He drew away a bit, fixing Tommy with a particularly unsettling stare. “Seriously, don’t. You tell anyone about this and I’ll deny it.”

“Okay.” Tommy just kept smiling at him.

Benrey pulled away and went to go investigate something else in the apartment. He’d promised to give Gordon a break, but that break wasn’t going to be indefinite. He needed to start planning out his next round of annoyances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally based off an AU idea by @islandguardiantapumeme, but it’s since become it’s own thing.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a few days and Gordon wasn’t better. Benrey was getting annoyed. He’d planned on giving Gordon a few days to buck up and when Gordon was back to himself Benrey would continue his pranks. It was more fun when Gordon could give him a proper reaction. But Gordon _wasn’t_ going back to himself. He was just continuing to wallow in his sorrow and things were getting worse. Tommy was getting increasingly worried, Coomer was still losing it, and Bubby was getting agitated because of Coomer’s decline.

So, Benrey decided he needed to intervene. Give Gordon a pep talk. Despite his pestering of him, he did think Gordon was generally a good guy and he knew that if Gordon knew how much the others were struggling, he’d definitely try to get better and do something about it. Especially when Coomer and Tommy were involved.

Benrey went to Gordon’s room at night, knocking on his door. Tommy was out on a grocery run, so the only ones who could confirm Benrey was trying to help were Coomer and Bubby. Bubby wasn’t about to snitch and Coomer wasn’t saying much at the moment. Which meant no one would ever know Benrey was trying to help. Perfect.

“Go away.” Gordon’s voice came from inside.

“Open the door? Please? Benny wanna talk.”

There was a long period of silence, followed by some shuffling and muffled cursing. Then Gordon opened the door. He looked awful, frankly, and Benrey wasn’t afraid to tell him.

“You look like shit,” he announced.

Gordon did look like Hel. He had dark circles under his eyes, unbrushed hair, an unkempt beard, and was wearing the same outfit he’d been wearing for nearly a week now.

“Thanks,” Gordon replied in a deadpan voice. “What do you want?”

“I wanna talk.”

Gordon stared at him, his expression just as dead as his voice. “Seriously, what do you want?”

“Seriously, I wanna talk,” Benrey said. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of the sweatpants he’d stolen from Gordon’s dresser sometime around the two-day mark. Somehow, they fit him, as did the sweatshirt he’d also stolen.

“Alright…” Gordon leaned on the door frame, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You’re being a pussy!” Bubby yelled from the living room. The living room wasn’t all that far away. He didn’t _need_ to yell.

“Yeah. That.” Benrey said without missing a beat.

Gordon sighed again, running a hand over his face. “Thanks. That’s-That’s very comforting. Totally isn’t insensitive or anything. Nope. Definitely not.”

“All you do is mope. It sucks.”

“Gee, I’m sorry I had my fucking life turning upside down and my identity destroyed,” Gordon snapped. “That’s kind of hard to get over, you know? Not to mention losing my fucking arm!” His fist slammed against the wood of the doorframe, although this display did nothing to deter Benrey.

“Look Feetman-”

“You know my last name isn’t actually Freeman, right? Please tell me you know that.”

“Listen? Please?” Benrey asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his usual monotone.

Gordon stared at him, his face twisting in irritation as he weighed his options. Then he sighed and nodded.

“Cool. Okay. Look” Benrey continued. “So, like, I think you’re kinda suss but these guys care about you for some reason and they need you.” He put his hands on Gordon’s shoulders. “So…stop being shit.”

Gordon blinked. Hard. “Is…Is that it? Is that your whole motivational speech?”

“Yeah.” Benrey removed his hands from Gordon.

It was hard to tell whether Gordon’s expression was one of shock, awe, or some anger that had yet to take form. He stood in the doorway, staring at Benrey with his mouth slightly open and his arms hanging limply at his sides.

“Did you think that would help?” He asked, and Benrey could see the frustration building in his eyes. “Because it wasn’t helpful. At all. All it made me want to do was punch you.”

Now it was Benrey’s turn to sigh. He hunched his shoulders, scuffing his feet on the carpet.

“Coomer’s fucking losing it and you’re like the only person who can probably help him,” he said, avoiding looking at Gordon.

“Wait, really?” And suddenly the irritation and anger were snuffed out, replaced by concern and fear.

“Yeah, really,” Benrey replied with a vague roll of his shoulders. “Didn’t you notice how quiet he’s been?”

Gordon glanced toward the living room, his brow furrowed. Benrey knew what was probably going through Gordon’s head. Why hadn’t he noticed sooner? How long had Coomer been suffering like this?

“Hey, don’t go getting all mopey again,” Benrey said, gently shoving Gordon’s shoulder with one hand. “You’re going through stuff too. just go help Coomer.”

“Right, uh, okay.” Gordon nodded, still looking past Benrey. “Thanks for…Thanks for telling me.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Benrey shrugged, turning to leave. He got a few feet before sharply turning around and quickly walking back to Gordon.

“You tell anyone I talked to you, I’ll kill you in your sleep,” he hissed, leaning in incredibly close. Then he turned around once more and fled. Gordon wasn’t entirely certain if he was joking, but he wasn’t about to push it.

So, he headed for the living room instead.

Coomer was seated on the couch, hunched over and staring blankly into the distance. Bubby sat beside him, an arm around Coomer’s shoulder. Coomer was silent, while Bubby was whispering.

“Um…Hey?” Gordon awkwardly knocked on the wall to get their attention.

Coomer didn’t look up, not registering the sound, but Bubby did. Immediately, his eyes flashed. He removed himself Coomer and stalked up to Gordon.

“What do you want?” He snapped, almost a complete mirror of Gordon’s own greeting to Benrey.

“I…I heard Coomer’s been having a hard time,” Gordon explained. “I wanted to help. I’m worried about him.” He looked past Bubby at Coomer, who was still sitting on the couch, still as a statue. 

“Took you long enough,” Bubby huffed, folding his arms. “He’s been suffering and you’ve just been cooped up in your room moping.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been going through my own stuff.” Gordon began rubbing circles on the stump of his right arm. It had become a nervous habit of his.

“What? The fact that you’re suddenly a buff hunk?” Bubby scoffed, gesturing to Gordon’s body. “We didn’t have **free will** until we got out of Black Mesa.”

“Look, this isn’t a contest!” Gordon snapped. He stopped closing his eyes and counting to ten.

“We’re all going through some stuff right now,” he continued after he’d calmed himself. “I just want to help Dr. Coomer. I’m worried about him.”

Bubby stared at him. His expression was unreadable, but then again that was nothing new. Bubby and Benrey had the hardest expressions to read of everyone on the Science Team. Benrey had an impeccable poker face and Bubby just always looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. The uncanny valley effect of their inhumanity didn’t help either.

“Fine,” Bubby finally said. “But you better not make Harold cry. I can still make you spontaneously combust.” He left without another word.

Gordon was left standing alone once more, wondering why everyone wanted to kill him lately. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and walked over to Coomer.

“Hey, Dr. Coomer.” He smiled weakly.

Coomer looked up, his expression brightening upon seeing Gordon. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped and closed it, his expression falling.

Gordon’s stomach twisted. He’d noticed Coomer was unusually quiet, but he hadn’t expected things to be **this** bad.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sitting down beside Coomer.

Coomer shook his head, smiling wearily. He looked down at his lap, his hands folded on his thighs.

“What’s wrong?” Gordon scooted closer.

Coomer hesitated, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he seemingly worked up the will to speak. “I keep…waiting for my dialogue to trigger. But it doesn’t,” he finally said.

“You **were** the most scripted, huh?”

Coomer nodded, sighing heavily. Gordon had never seen him like this before. So…Subdued and defeated. He moved closer to the older scientist, wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Coomer’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” Coomer replied, patting Gordon’s back. Even as he tried to be comforting, though, it was clear that Coomer was the one who needed this hug. He clung to Gordon as though the younger man were a lifeline.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Gordon said. “You’re going through a lot right now.”

Coomer nodded, unable to deny the truth of the statement.

“I’m still figuring stuff out myself, honestly, and I can’t promise I can fix everything, but I want to help you, Dr. Coomer. You’re my friend and I care about you.” He pulled back, smiling in what he hoped was a comforting way. It was lopsided and a little unsure, but it was genuine.

“You’re not alone,” he continued. “You’ve got me, and Tommy, and Bubby, and Benrey. We’re here for you. We’ll figure this all out together, okay?”

“Very well,” Coomer laughed softly. “You’ve come a long way, Gordon.”

“I don’t know about that.” Gordon grimaced slightly. “Anyway, you can come to me if you’re having a hard time. I’ll be here for you.”

Coomer just nodded, smiling. It was the first genuine smile Gordon had gotten out of him in a long time.

.

When Tommy returned with the groceries, everyone seemed to be in relatively better spirits. Even if that meant Benrey was back to tormenting Gordon by eating things he should not have been eating.

“Doctor Coo-Coomer seems happier,” Tommy said as Gordon helped him put the groceries away.

Coomer still wasn’t talking much, but he looked a lot happier as he watched Bubby and Benrey yell at each other while playing Mario Kart.

“Yeah, I talked to him,” Gordon said. “I told him that he could come to me if he was having trouble. I, uh, I didn’t notice what a hard time he was having.” He smiled slightly sheepishly before going back to trying to figure out how to fit all the refrigerated items into the fridge. His fridge didn’t exactly have a lot of space in it.

“Benrey told you to talk to him, didn’t he?” Tommy asked, his expression softening.

Immediately, Gordon stiffened, remembering Benrey’s threat.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He said quickly. “That asshole? Trying to _help_? T-That’s crazy!” His voice audibly went up an octave as he laughed nervously, frantically shoving sodas into the fridge.

“He threatened y-you too, huh?” Tommy laughed. “He’s-He’s not gonna hurt you, don’t worry.”

“Yes, he will!” Gordon hissed, glancing back in the direction of the living room. “He tried to kill me before!”

“He feels bad abou-about that.”

“Can you…keep him from killing me?” Gordon asked slowly. Tommy was just about the only person Benrey would actually listen to. If anyone could get Benrey to not do something, it would be Tommy.

“He’s not-not gonna kill you, Gordon,” Tommy said brightly. “You being alive is more-more fun for him!”

Gordon stared at him. “I…Don’t know how to feel about that.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Gordon. Hey. Gordon.”

Gordon woke up to find Benrey crouched on his chest, holding what appeared to be an empty cereal box. He had the distinct impression of feeling as though he were a cat owner being woken up by a hungry cat.

“We’re out of cereal,” Benrey announced, shaking the cereal box. It did indeed seem to be empty, judging by the lack of sound coming from it.

“Mmkay.” Gordon nodded vaguely. “Do you want me to get more?”

“Yes, please.”

“Kay.” Gordon yawned, turning his head to check the time. It was about 9 in the morning. Not too early thankfully. Benrey got off of his chest, allowing Gordon to sit up and put a shirt on.

It had been a few days since Gordon’s talks with Benrey and Coomer. Things were…better. Not perfect, but better. Benrey was still being a little shit, but at this point Gordon was used to it. Coomer was doing a bit better, although he was still struggling. They were all still struggling in their own ways. They were trying to communicate better, though.

“You wanna come to the store with me?” Gordon asked as he pulled a t-shirt over his head.

Benrey blinked.

“Do you wanna come to the store with me?” Gordon repeated, assuming Benrey hadn’t heard him. “We could all go. Get you guys used to going out. Or, you, Bubby, and Coomer at least, since Tommy’s already gone out.”

“Sure,” Benrey finally said, shrugging slightly. He got off Gordon’s bed and went over to one of Gordon’s dressers, starting to dig through the drawers.

“What are you looking for?” Gordon asked.

“A hat,” Benrey replied.

Gordon was about to ask why Benrey needed a hat when he noticed the other man wasn’t wearing his helmet. Gordon was rather surprised. He’d never seen Benrey without his helmet before. His hair was longer than Gordon had expected, reaching down to his shoulders in a thick, shaggy curtain. It was so black it seemed to absorb all light that hit it, not that there was much light in his bedroom at the moment.

“What happened to your helmet?”

“A pigeon made a nest in it,” Benrey replied. “It’s theirs now. Lost the territory battle.”

“Okay…?” Gordon nodded slowly. He wasn’t even going to question how that had happened. It wasn’t worth the brain cells.

“So, like, you got any beanies?” Benrey asked.

“I…I might?” Gordon walked over to stand beside him, staring to dig through the clothes as well. Part of him cursed his past self for just shoving his clothes into the drawers haphazardly, but he knew he wasn’t about to clean it up any time soon.

Benrey stepped aside to allow Gordon better access, peering curiously into the drawers beside him.

“Shit. I gotta get some new clothes,” Gordon muttered to himself as he dug through the piles of clothes. “None of these are gonna fit me now.”

“You gonna steal new clothes?” Benrey asked.

“No, I’m going to _buy_ clothes. Like a normal person.”

“Laaame.” Benrey blew a raspberry.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to go to jail.” Gordon playfully shoved Benrey’s shoulder. “And weren’t you trying to **stop** me from stealing stuff in the game?”

“Oh yeah.” Benrey looked momentarily puzzled, as though he’d forgotten. He quickly bounced back, though. “That was a test. Gotta…gotta make sure you’re not- you’re not being bad.”

“Glad you’re looking out for me.” Gordon chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Here, take this.” He handed a hat to the other man. Benrey turned it over as if appraising it. It was a pink chullo with little llamas woven onto it.

“Sick.” Benrey grinned, displaying a full set of fangs. “Where’d you get this?”

“I’m pretty sure it was a gift from my grandmother,” Gordon said, digging in the drawer a bit more. “I’ve got others too. I think she made them.” He had a strong memory of her sending them over after a particularly disastrous attempt on his part to cut his own hair. Evidently, the embarrassment had been enough to brand the incident in his mind.

“Oh, dope. Gotta love somethin’ made with love.” Benrey shoved the hat onto his head, tucking his hair under it.

Satisfied, Gordon finished getting dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and some socks. Before he left, though, he paused in front of the door. He could feel Benrey behind him, playing with a stim toy Gordon had left lying around.

“Hey…I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Gordon repeated, turning back to face Benrey. “For the way I treated you in the game. I was…I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I was just really overwhelmed and I tend to lash out when I get overwhelmed.”

Benrey stared at him. Gordon couldn’t tell what the other man was thinking and it made his anxiety ramp all the way up.

“‘s all good man,” Benrey finally said, turning his attention back to the stim toy. “I was kinda shit too.”

“You’re…You’re not mad?” Gordon said slowly.

“Nah, it’s cool,” Benrey replied with a shrug.

The two of them stood there, Gordon staring at Benrey and Benrey staring at his stim toy.

“Thanks for talking to me the other day,” Gordon spoke again, a small smile on his face. “I…I needed that push. And I probably wouldn’t have listened to anyone else.”

Benrey blinked and looked up at him, genuine surprise registering on his features.

“It’s…’s cool, dude,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulders in some approximation of a shrug. “Didn’t…didn’t want you to keep moping around.”

Gordon rolled his eyes but smiled fondly to himself.

“Anyway, thanks.” He patted Benrey’s shoulder. “You’re…You’re pretty cool. I’m…I’m glad you’re here.”

Benrey stared at him again. Was it just him or was Benrey turning a little pink?

“You’re, uh, you’re pretty cool too,” Benrey said before pulling his hat further down over his eyes and hunching his shoulders.

Satisfied with this, Gordon turned away and stepped out of his bedroom, ready to tell the others he was going to head to the store, only to be met with a frantic Bubby.

“Gordon! The microwave is on fire!”

Gordon blinked. “Huh?”

“Did you not hear me?!” Bubby grabbed Gordon by his shirt. “The microwave is on fire!”

“Oh shit. Is that smoke?” Benrey appeared behind Gordon.

Sure enough, there was indeed smoke coming from the kitchen. The smoke detector was going off now too. Gordon yelped, sprinting to the kitchen. His mind was racing. Did he have a fire extinguisher? He was pretty sure he remembered his mother insisting he get one, but had he ever actually done it?

Upon entering his kitchen, he was greeted by Coomer, who was standing in front of the microwave and staring into the flames as though they held the secrets of the universe.

“Oh my God,” Gordon groaned.

Coomer looked back, face lighting up upon seeing Gordon. “Bubby made fire!” He announced brightly.

“Yeah, I can see that! _Where_ is the fire extinguisher?!”

Gordon began to search frantically for the extinguisher while Coomer and Bubby watched. It was unclear where Benrey was. Luckily, Gordon _did_ have a fire extinguisher in the apartment, tucked under the sink, and he managed to put the fire out.

He didn’t feel any better with the fire out, though. The microwave was a burned-out husk, there were scorch marks all over the walls and cabinets around the microwave, and the whole kitchen smelled like smoke.

“Issit out?” Benrey poked his head in.

“Yeah, uh, it’s out,” Gordon panted, a bit out of breath from his running and searching.

“You’re gonna need a new microwave,” Bubby said.

Gordon covered his face and groaned. “I don’t have the _money_ to get a new microwave!” He rounded on Bubby. “How the Hell did you even do this?!”

“That’s not important.” Bubby folded his arms.

Coomer just pointed to the charred remains of whatever had been in the microwave. It looked like a Monster energy can shoved into a bowl of some unidentified substance that might have once been oatmeal.

“Okay. Okay okay okay okay okay.” Gordon closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “This is fine. This is okay. I just need to clean this up and then…I can figure out what to do about the microwave. It’ll be okay.”

The microwave burst into flames again.

Gordon started to cry.

It was at that point that Tommy walked in from the balcony and beheld the absolute chaos in front of him. He sighed heavily. Then he calmly walked into the kitchen, picking up the fire extinguisher and putting out the fire again. With that done, he then pulled Gordon into a hug, gently patting his back to calm him.

“Hey…don’t…don’t cry,” Benrey said, moving closer. “‘s cool. We’ll fix this.” He’d never seen Gordon cry before and he did not like it. It wasn’t right. He didn’t want Gordon to cry. Seeing Gordon cry made him…sad. He pressed himself against Gordon’s back, wrapping his arms around Gordon’s midsection.

“It’s just a microwave,” Bubby chimed in, patting Gordon’s back. “We’ll get you a new one. What’s important is that nobody got hurt.”

Coomer walked over to join the hug, literally wrapping his arms around their little group.

“It’s go-going to be okay,” Tommy spoke softly as Gordon cried into his chest.

Gordon had been tamping down a lot of feelings for the past week or so and they were all coming bubbling up now. He just wanted everything to be normal again. He didn’t want to feel this awful anymore.

He cried for what felt like forever, just held by Tommy, Coomer, and Benrey. Bubby didn’t join the hug, but he did pat Gordon’s head every so often.

“So-Sorry about that,” Gordon sniffled when he finally pulled away. “I didn’t…Shouldn’t have broken down like that. Shouldn’t bother you guys like this.”

“Don’t be-be sorry,” Tommy assured him. “You’re dealing wi-with a lot. We understand.”

“It’d be more concerning if you _didn’t_ have trauma. It’s a normal human reaction and all that,” Bubby agreed, looking just the tiniest bit guilty. Coomer nodded, smiling softly.

“It’s not like you’re botherin’ us,” Benrey mumbled. “We’re the ones who are, like, crashin’ the party.” He looked guilty as well, avoiding eye contact with everyone as he fiddled with the yarn braids on the chullo.

“We’re yo-your friends,” Tommy continued, taking Gordon’s hands in his. “We wa-want to help you.”

Gordon blinked. Slowly, he looked around at the others, all still crowded around him. He couldn’t see Benrey, since Benrey still hadn’t let go.

“Thanks,” Gordon said, managing a smile. “So, uh, who wants to go to the store?”

**Author's Note:**

> The original ideas for this AU come from @islandguardiantapumeme but now I'm invested and I'm running with it.


End file.
